


in a faith forgotten land

by drarrydemented



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Infidelity, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Hogwarts, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29243649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drarrydemented/pseuds/drarrydemented
Summary: Draco lies awake at night, shouldering a deep and suffocating sense of regret./Draco lives in a desolate marriage, and when he thinks of finally breaking free, Harry comes along and helps him with it.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 152





	in a faith forgotten land

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first ever Drarry fanfic! English is not my first language so terrible grammar and awkward wording is to be expected. Please be nice.

_“And the old widow goes_   
_to the stone everyday,_   
_but I don't,_   
_I just_ _sit here and wait,_   
_grieving for the living.”_

—

Being under the sheets and sleeping beside him have always felt suffocating to Draco.

A weak sigh slipped past his lips and he curled tightly to himself, desperately seeking for the lost sense of comfort he was promised since the day of their marriage. The warmth and the feeling of contentment he should feel in their own bedroom, pressed against the heat of his husband's body beside him.

But he knew it could never be, he reflected, staring blankly at the sleeping figure next to him. Could never bring himself to. The silver band began to feel too tight around his finger as he fell deeper into regret.

The sheets felt too hot and he felt smothered. In his own house. His own bed. His own _marriage_ — and he wanted out. With that in mind, he threw the blankets off of him and stood up, leaving the room without sparing a single glance behind him. He all but ran to the direction of the kitchen as quietly as he could, fetching himself a cold glass of water and downing it all in one go. He squeezed the counter tight until his knuckles turned white , glaring at the wedding band on his finger as though it was the root of all his misery. In a way, it was.

Merlin, how had he ended up like this? Oh, yes. After the war, he vividly remembered clinging to the nearest rich man who was willing to take him despite his past. Married someone he had never loved, mindlessly hoping he'd learn to do so in the long run — never did. Was only made to fuck in the night disregarding whether he even wanted to, or _not_. Shown off at grand events like a particularly expensive watch, a silent way to convey, _hey, I took this Death Eater scum in and let him have my surname, I'm a great man_. It made him sick. Everything about his life made him sick.

He could leave and he could do it now. Pack up quietly and leave without a notice. Get out of England. Hide. He could do it now and nobody would know. He would be painted the villain in someone else's story once again. But he couldn't bring himself to care.

He put the empty glass down, the sound of glass against marble drowned out by his harsh breathing and the blood rushing in his ears.

“Trouble in paradise, it seems.”

His heart sank to his stomach. And the way he whirled around so suddenly felt too familiar to him, almost a deja vu moment. Save for the fact that instead of a dingy bathroom in an old castle, it was under the dimmed light of a sleek and modern kitchen, his stance unassuming with a relaxed and knowing look on his face and he certainly didn't have his wand out and ready to hex his face off.

But who would've thought Harry Potter would ever catch him having a mental breakdown on a sink once again.

He tensed when Harry walked closer only to open the fridge and get himself a bottle of milk. “Care to share? I'm bad at advices, but I can listen.” he offered, regarding him with those irritatingly incandescent green eyes before he tipped his head back and chugged, his Adam's apple bobbing. Draco let his eyes wander down his sturdy figure shamelessly for a few seconds before he shook his head.

“I'm fine. It's just about something stupid.”

“Stupid enough for you to be making that face? I doubt it. Come on, humor me.”

Harry leaned against the counter, eyes attentive and earnest. In all his magnetic glory, Draco was drawn to him. Always had been, and he hated it. Hated how so badly he wanted to lean closer to the warmth that was so familiar, yet so far away. Look into those green eyes up close and press his lips against his — and drown in it. Draco felt dizzy at the image.

Curse him, honestly. Curse Harry Potter and his observant green eyes.

Snorting, Draco turned his back in hopes that the man wouldn't read the mortifying, unsaid want written on his face. Draco knew Harry would be disgusted of him if he realized, even more than he probably already was. Draco was disgusted of himself.

“Trust me, Potter. It's not something someone like you would be interested in. Don't bother yourself.”

How did Harry Potter end up staying a night over his house? Oh, right. His beloved husband had a penchant for sucking up to influencial people. Although in regards to exactly how he had managed to capture Harry Potter's interest in networking, he had no idea. All he knew was that he came home to his husband and Potter having a hearty chat about _Draco_ over some of his expensive wine. He dreaded to know what they had been talking about before he arrived and what could have been so amusing about Draco that made Harry wear the ear-to-ear grin that he hasn't seen for so long.

Harry's presence made the whole house even more suffocating. Strengthened the urge to break away free from this desolate wedlock.

“I see. All right, then.” there was shuffling and Draco felt a lump on his throat. _No, don't walk away just yet._ Despite himself, he raised his head and expected to see an empty space where Harry had been — except he was engulfed face full by a staggeringly familiar scent that settled itself beside him. A foot away too close. The overwhelming scent of Amortentia.

“I'm going to try and guess instead, is that okay?” Draco found himself nodding absently. Harry hummed. “let's see. . . You're troubled about something. . .”

“Astounding deduction, Sherlock. It's truly no wonder you've become Head Auror.” he gave him a mocking salute.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I wasn't done yet, you knew that,” he huffed and there was a small, knowing smirk on his lips. “let me rephrase that. You're troubled because of how your life ended up. By marrying this man you've come to hate over the years.”

Any of the clever retorts Draco had prepared died on his lips, apprehension filled his stomach and rage begun to climb its way up his throat. “Even after all these years, you're still full of shit, Potter,” he spat, mad at how easily Harry had read him after less than a day at his house. How quick he'd discovered that Draco was miserable. “I love Jacques,” the lie tasted bitter on his tongue. “just because you had a miserable marriage doesn't mean everyone else does.”

There was a flicker of emotion in his eyes, but it was gone too soon before he could discern it. Draco would've paid a fortune to see that smug grin wiped off his face but it never did, much to his annoyance.

“I could say _my_ marriage ended in quite a civil manner — or was that you projecting just now?”

“No, _you_ were projecting,” the retort slipped before he could stop himself. Not the smartest comeback he could think of. He quickly added. “I was just calling you out on it.” 

Harry raised a brow. “How mature. I'm sad to see your quick wit has dwindled over the years. Must be the effect of being with Jacques.”

“Shut up. Stop talking shit. You're beginning to annoy me.” he sniffed, further proving Harry's point.

“I'm sorry if I find it hard to believe that you can stand a man like Jacques. And marry him, much less,” he drawled, crossing his arms on his chest. “I have a feeling he exhausted all of his competency in doing business. I doubt he's good at anything else.”

“Maybe business _was_ the reason —” he managed to bite his tongue, though judging from the expression on Harry's face, he knew exactly what Draco was going to say. “You've known him for how long? A week? How can you be so certain he's not a good husband?”

“Because,” he drawled, taking a step closer. Draco resisted the urge to lean in and take greedy gulps of that alluring scent. “a week is more than enough for me to earn his trust, become his best mate, and loosen his tongue with alcohol.” he pushed his hair from his face, shaking his head. “God, the amount of shite he spouts. Especially about his own _husband_.”

Draco felt a chill run down his spine. “W-what were they? The things he said about me.”

“Enough bullshit for me to know you couldn't be happy being tied to someone like that,” Desperately, he looked for the words to get out of the corner Harry has pushed him into. Draco must have let the silence stretch too long and confirmed his statement. “and just now, you we're thinking of running away. Weren't you?”

Draco didn't trust his voice to not betray him, so he denied it with a fervent shake of his head.

“I'm not going to stop you. If that's what you want to do,” Draco took a gasping breath when Harry decided to crowd him against the counter, as if cornering him metaphorically wasn't enough for him. He clutched at Harry's shirt. “I can pretend to be clueless for you. But Draco. . . I want you to know that you don't have to live hiding from him.”

_What does that mean? What the fuck does he mean by that?_

“When you leave, you know very well he's not going to stand by without twisting the story for everyone to think you were the problem.” he continued after seeing the bemused furrow on Draco's brows.

“Just another mark in my reputation that's already been marred, nothing new. I don't care.”

“I do.”

“But why?” he glowered at him. “is your saviour radar going off at my expense? Is saving poor blokes in miserable marriages a new hobby you've picked up? Why do you care so much?”

In place of a verbal response, Harry decided he would run his fingers through Draco's hair, pushing the lengthy locks away from his face. Fiery green eyes flickered down to his lips then back to his eyes. Draco was hit with a shamefully potent want for the man in front of him — so strong, it made his knees weak as if he was eighteen again. His hold on Harry's shirt got tighter, unable to tell if it was to push him away, pull him closer or simply to hold himself steady.

“Don't you remember?” Harry searched his eyes. “I've always thought your hair was really pretty. Especially like this.”

And then Draco decided, fuck it.

_Fuck everything else,_ he thought as he dragged Harry closer by hooking his arms around to back of his neck and crashed their lips together. Harry's response was immediate and eager by licking Draco's lips open before securing his arms around his waist. Draco tangled his fingers in Harry's hair, a series of needy whimpers escaping his lips when Harry's sturdy form pressed closer against him.

In one swift movement, Harry had Draco perched on top of the kitchen counter, his warm hands sneaking under his shirt and roaming his back. The cold surface biting the bare skin of his thighs, reminding him that he was wearing nothing other than a shirt and his underwear. Harry pulled away first.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Draco, unable to form coherent words, whined and pulled Harry impossibly closer and clamped his legs around the other man's waist. “you have no idea how long I've been looking for you. Who would've thought I'd find you in Wizarding France. Married to some rich pureblood ponce.”

“W-what do you mean?” he thought he ought to have said something smarter, but his mind had been rendered fuzzy from the kiss and he wanted more, his eyes kept following the movement of Harry's lips and how the man kept squeezing at his sides.

“I meant,” Harry said. “that I never forgot about how you disappeared without a trace after graduation, when you kissed the life out of me for the last time. I was hurt. I thought what we had, no matter how little it was, meant something big to you as it did with me,” he sighed. “I never heard from you again. The Prophet stopped writing about your family and everyone brushed me off whenever I asked about you. You know, I was planning on properly dating you once we were out of school. Then I thought, maybe you were just being a prick, and when you finally succeeded in getting back at me by letting me make a fool of myself, you left. I felt stupid.”

Draco swallowed and shook his head. “No, Harry, I. . .” he choked on what seemed like a sob with a side of regret as a wave of repressed memories came rushing back to the forefront of his mind, overwhelming him. He couldn't believe he had forgotten.

“Do you really not remember?”

Draco was guilty of forgetting. All these years, Harry had remembered him and every little thing they did at the short time they were gifted with during eighth-year. The fleeting touches, stolen gazes, hidden smiles and tender kisses — it all came back to him.

_“Your hair's really pretty like this.”_

_Harry had confessed, his eyes wide and cheeks going red. He looked down, embarrassed as if he hadn't meant to actually say it out loud. Draco made a startled noise that he masked with a cough, equally as embarrassed, though secretly more pleased than anything._

_“Don't feel the need to pay me with compliments. The Potions tutoring is free of charge. I'm doing this purely out of the goodness of my heart.”_ _he replied, trying to hide_ _the giddy tone in his voice and his grin._

_Then_ _Harry schooled his expression into a more serious and determined one before reaching up with a shaky hand to tuck loose tufts of blonde hair behind Draco's ear._

_“No, I've always thought your hair was really pretty.”_

_They kissed for the the first time that sweltering summer day. No remaining shadows from the war looming over them. None of the old school rivalry and animosity. Just a pair of smitten teenagers in a quiet library._

Along with the memories, a familiar flicker of fire hot emotion sparked in his heart, waiting to be fanned to a flame.

“I met Jacques at a party,” Harry started. “I thought he was a right prick. Couldn't stand him and I planned to just walk away until he started talking about his husband _Draco_ who used to be a Death Eater — or in his words, _v_ _oldemort worshipper_ ,” Draco sucked in a sharp breath prompting Harry to run comforting patterns on his skin. “he said you couldn't come with him that night so I couldn't be sure if it was you. But consider my interest piqued, so I told him what I knew he wanted to hear.”

Draco remembered that night very well. He had been dosed with an extremely potent Sleeping Draught and only came to at noon the next day with a thundering headache.

“I — Harry. . .” he leaned in and pressed another kiss to his lips. Harry held his face in his palms.

Harry chuckled, more at himself. “I begged the French Ministry for his and your file until they finally handed it over. And there it was, your name with his stupid surname. I was seven years too late. I thought it was stupid to feel so hurt about a school boy nemesis turned sweetheart,” he wet his lips. “I kept trying to get in his good side until he trusted me enough to invite me over to talk business. I was ecstatic at the thought of seeing you again. A treacherous part of me hoped that maybe it wasn't too late, after all.”

As he said the last sentence, he searched Draco's eyes for answers. Draco couldn't give him one, as he didn't know it himself.

“I didn't remember, up until now,” Draco couldn't look him in the eye as he confessed, guilty. “though I suppose the memories have always been there, waiting to be brought out and I just had no idea how, nor did I have anyone to do it for me,” Draco paused, hesitant then recited almost mechanically. “because Jacques is the only one who has ever loved and adored me for what I am.”

Harry made a noise of protest.

“That's what he tells me.” oddly, he felt defensive.

“For _what you are_ _?_ What _are_ you, Draco?”

“Oh, I don't know, Death Eater scum? Filth? Damaged goods? A whore? A broken fuck toy?” he snapped, tempted to list every degrading name Jacques has called him over the years and has come to accept.

Harry looked enraged, he half expected Harry to stun him and leave him there helpless for hours like _he_ did, but it never came. He then realized Harry wasn't angry at him. “Fuck what he thinks. Fuck whatever bullshit he tells you,” he wiped at the drying tears on Draco's face. “so what if you were a Death Eater at _seventeen_ _?_ I hardly care about that anymore. We've all made terrible choices at one point in our lives. That includes Jacques and his family cowardly hiding amongst muggles during the war — but even so, the war should be behind us. It happened and it's all history,” he carded his fingers through Draco's hair. “and for what it's worth, I adore you. Probably too much.”

Somehow, when those came from Harry's lips with all the sincerity in the world, Draco was inclined to believe him.

Draco didn't want to start crying again, so he pulled Harry in for another kiss. Greedily breathing him in as if he was going to disappear into thin air soon and leave him alone the in confines of this godforsaken house. As if he was nothing more than a mirage, a fantasy Draco managed to create in his head. He never wanted to be separated from him again.

“I want you — ” _to love me. Make love to me._ “so bad.” he gasped against Harry's lips, whispering a hopeful, “fuck me.”

Harry pulled off, reluctant but Draco could see the glint of arousal in those green eyes. “I want to. Terribly. God, you're so beautiful,” he licked his lips. “and I'd worship you so good. But I don't know if this is a mistake you're willing to look past, Draco.”

“Shut up,” Draco clenched his fists, brows furrowed in offense. “how can you say that? Every single day, in these last five years are little mistakes born from the biggest one I've made all those years ago. Wanting to be with you is not a mistake,” his voice threatened to break. “this is me finally trying to do what's right,” he inhaled shakily before swallowing. “even if it's just for tonight and I'd have to go on the next morning to continue making mistakes. I don't care if I have to take your cock up my ass with his ring on my finger. I don't care if that's _wrong_. It feels right to me.” he went over his words in his head, his heart faltering in worry about how he must have sounded to Harry. He recoiled defensively. “of course, I'm not forcing you — if you don't want to, you can —”

To his surprise, Harry simply chuckled and leaned his forehead on his own. Draco frowned, offended. “is it too soon to say I love you?”

Draco made a startled noise, his cheeks burning so hot it felt like he was smoking from his ears. He stammered, “p-probably? Definitely! Don't change the subject!”

“What was the subject again? Ah, right.” Harry crashed his lips on Draco's, eager and harsh. A hand on his neck and an arm around his waist before there was the dull crack of apparition and the next thing he knew, he was lying on his back with a soft bed under him, and Harry attacking his lips above him.

“Wait. . . what the fuck,” he panted out, kneading Harry's arms in his hand when he began attacking his neck right after his lips. “how did you just apparate us inside the house.”

Harry had the audacity to look sheepish as he pulled away briefly, “sorry about your wards, might've broken some of them,” he apologized while sounding the least bit apologetic, looking off the side for a second before a shirt zoomed into his hand and gave it to Draco, as if his broken wards were considered a less important matter. “can you wear this? For me?”

It was a large blue shirt, and it smelled like Harry, so. Draco said nothing and wasted no time in pulling his own sweat ridden shirt off then slipped Harry's shirt on, giving it a satisfied sniff. Then he was being pushed back to bed, Harry making him hold the hem of the shirt up to his chest as he began to assault Draco's nipples with his tongue and his fingers.

Draco's _sensitive_ nipples.

“ _Ah_ , fuck, Harry!” he gave a startled cry, which faded into a series of whimpers when Harry pressed his hips down, rubbing clothed groin against groin. Draco squeezed his thighs around Harry's hips, he could feel his underwear beginning to soak with precome.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , Draco might be going to the Hell. But he didn't care, because it everything about Harry felt way too heavenly.

—

Harry was convinced that Draco Malfoy was made just for him.

Especially the longer he stared down at him as he writhed underneath him, hips frantically rolling up desperate for the hot friction between them.

_“Harry, Harry, Harry. . ._ ” he chanted absently, as though his name was a prayer, staring dazedly at Harry through his thick, bright lashes, his eyes seemed opalescent under the moonlight. His long blonde locks splayed out against the dark sheets, a few strands stuck to his cheek. Harry pressed his hips down, feeling his chest heat up at the sight of Draco's eyes fluttering close and lips part. He let his hands travel south, gripping Draco's hips then thumbing at the lace fabric.

“Jesus. . .” he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling at the soft skin underneath. Draco wore lingerie. Most likely more often than he knew. Harry didn't know what to do with that information aside from coming in his pants like a teenager. He bit Draco's already swollen-red lips open, licking into his tongue.

They settled on languid kisses and casual rubbing for a few minutes, simply familiarizing themselves with each other. Until Harry moved away from his lips and took one of the pillows before placing it under Draco's hips. His lips moved downwards to his chest, placing tender kisses on Draco's stomach and then finally settling in between his legs.

Harry looked up at him through his lashes. “May I?”

“Fuck — I mean, _yes.”_ Draco all but squeaked, seemingly embarrassed and Harry grinned. He peeled Draco's knickers away, leaving them suspended on his knees. Then, he put his mouth on Draco's leaking cock, relishing at the soft cry he made when Harry didn't waste any second in devouring him, licking at the precome that dribbled endlessly. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked him off until Draco's thighs trembled on either sides of his face.

Something about the furtiveness of this situation set fire to Harry's blood. The fact that Draco wore his shirt, his knickers were halfway through his calves, and his svelte legs were perched over Harry's shoulders — Harry squeezed at his own hardness.

Draco covered his mouth when Harry moved lower and licked at his entrance. Harry murmured a lubricating spell and then pressed a finger against Draco's hole. He settled unto leaving marks on the pale skin of Draco's thighs, peppering kisses from time to time.

“I want to hear you.” Harry muttered against Draco's thigh. Draco sucked in a sharp breath before moving his hand away, releasing pretty little noises as Harry's fingers began to prod inside him. He shook his head.

“I'm already, _ah_ , open — touched myself earlier,” he panted and tried to squeeze his legs shut before he remembered Harry was in between them. “just. . . Please — with your mouth, I need it.”

Harry nodded and rasped out. “Okay.” then he parted Draco's cheeks with his hands and licked at the middle. Draco keened in surprise and gripped his hair tightly in one hand, while Harry expertly prodded at his hole using his tongue. Draco's hips lifted up, his heels going to dig at Harry's shoulder blades. Harry kneaded at his thighs.

After a series of licking, nipping and sucking from Harry's part, something wet and warm hit his face just as Draco released a muffled moan, his palm over his mouth. When he pulled away and sat up he realized that Draco came all over his stomach.

“Did you just come untouched?” Harry licked his lips in amusement. Draco covered his face. Harry chuckled. “don't feel embarrassed. I find it incredibly hot that you're so sensitive,” Harry removed Draco's knickers all the way and dropped them to the floor. He began rocking their hips together. “Do you think you can come again?” a pleased smile crept on Harry's lips when he saw Draco harden once more.

Draco nodded. “Yes, please, I want to — fuck, it feels so good.” his face was flushed red as he pleaded. “can you please put your cock in me now?”

He didn't know exactly when it happened but Draco's shirt was already gone by the time Harry tucked his face into Draco's neck, paying special attention to a spot under his jaw. There was a couple seconds of silence before Harry pushed in abruptly, forcing out a strangled cry from Draco before he felt sharp nails dig into his back as he continued to move in slow, careful thrusts. Harry nosed Draco's cheek, whispering in his ear.

“Feel all right?”

“You're a little bigger than I anticipated but yes — absolutely wonderful, now please _move_ _faster._ ”

And so Harry did. Bracing his arms on either side of Draco, placing Draco's calves on his shoulders then digging his knees on the sheets. He rocked his hips forward in vigorous thrusts. Countering Draco's gasps of delight with his own grunts as he pounded into his tight heat. Draco looked delicious like this, flushed and writhing underneath him, back arching wantonly, a thin layer of sweat causing his skin to shine.

_Everything Jacques didn't deserve_. Harry growled and snapped his hips even harder, relishing at the sight of Draco's lashes fluttering and silver eyes rolling upwards. He rolled his hips up to meet Harry's thrusts just as enthusiastically. It suddenly dawned on Harry how deprived and needy Draco was but the realization that startled him was how willing he was to give it to him. Whatever he wanted and whenever he needed it.

Draco was positively screaming and sobbing now, nails clawing at his back and without a doubt leaving promiscuous marks on him. Harry didn't mind, he thought, as he looked down at his own marks he made all over Draco. The bed creaked violently and slammed against the wall. And a treacherous part of Harry hoped that _he_ would wake and hear it from across the house. Hear how Harry's name was a delighted squeak and gasp from Draco's lips while being fucked with the most passion the world can give. Make him regret ever inviting Harry over and introducing him to his husband.

His husband whom Harry knew and loved first. And now Harry has come back to take what was supposed to be his all along. Harry got him. Harry has no intention of ever letting Draco slip from his grasp ever again.

—

Oh, _oh_.

Draco thought this was Heaven on earth, as he clenched down greedily. His own cock pulsing on his belly as Harry worked his way into him. But he felt so full and he wanted to come untouched on Harry's cock alone.

“You have the loveliest body I've ever laid eyes on,” Harry commented, almost absentmindedly, gazing down at Draco with glazed, gleaming eyes. He gasped when Draco clenched around him. “so tight. So good, baby.”

Draco preened at the praise and shivered, feeling oversensitive. He felt his eyelids flutter close as he sighed. Harry shouldn't talk, looking like that above Draco. All lean, strong muscles, broad shoulders and dark skin. He was a god, blessing Draco with all the passion in the world, sending him more and more to the edge — by hitting his prostate dead on with every thrust of his cock.

And what a lovely cock it was. When Draco saw what Harry had always been packing in there, he almost didn't believe it would fit, the girth and length intimidated him. Just another thing Harry had that Jacques didn't, he counted. Draco found it wasn't very difficult to compare the two of them, it was as clear as a summer day that Harry was good at everything Jacques wasn't.

If there was one thing Jacques was especially horrendous at, it was sex. He couldn't recall ever feeling this good with Jacques.

All thought of Jacques were thrown out the window once Harry's hand made its way to his belly and pressed down at the protrusion his cock made. Draco let his legs fall apart as he came abruptly with a particularly loud cry of Harry's name, coming long and hard.

_“_ _Draco_. . .” Harry's thrusts stuttered to a slower rhythm as he chased his own orgasm. Then with a bite down his lower lip and a long groan, he came and spilled inside Draco, his arms going to wrap around Draco's waist.

Draco laid there dazed, spent and sated.

Once Harry pulled out he flipped face down beside him, intertwined his fingers with Draco's. He shifted closer and half draped himself on top of Draco. There was a short moment of silence and post-coital bliss between them, Harry pressing kisses on his neck to his shoulder.

“Was I good?”

The question startled a laugh out of Draco. He placed a hand over his mouth in disbelief. “Amazing. Thank you,” he sighed, his hand then coming up to tread through Harry's ink coloured locks. “I haven't orgasmed that hard in so long.” he joked.

Another beat of silence before Harry groaned into the pillow beside him, his words were muffled but he was close enough to hear discern it. “You're gonna make me upset.”

Draco's halted. “I'm sorry.”

“No, don't be. I didn't mean — It's just. . .” Harry sighed. “I missed you so much, Draco. Now that I found you, I don't feel like letting you go again.”

Draco opened his mouth, then closed it again. He let Harry's words sink in.

“Do you know what I mean?” Harry pressed. “I want you to leave him and come home with me. It feels and sounds so incredibly selfish but I — I just want to give you everything he has deprived you of.”

Draco curled into Harry, just wanting to be held.

“I want you to finally run away, Draco,” Harry said. “run to me. But what matters to me is what _you_ want.”

Draco knew deep inside that he was willing to follow Harry blindly, he trusted the man to hold him by the hand and lead him through the dark. Though he remained silent, not trusting words to himself.

—

Fiddling at the delicate strap on his wrist, Draco trailed quietly behind Jacques after shutting the door to their room. The silence felt heavy and it weighed on his shoulders.

_“This is a modified Portkey,” Harry had told him a few hours ago after he clasped a thin and golden bracelet around his wrist. “it will only activate under one chosen incantation I set, with or without a wand. I'll have a room ready for you at home.”_

_“Okay, all right.” Draco grasped Harry's arms tightly._

_“I'll be waiting. See you soon.” Harry kissed him and it wasn't a good bye._

_“See you soon.” he whispered back._

It had been a few hours after Harry left on his own Portkey and Jacques went to see him off. Draco didn't stick around to watch him go, claiming he had prior engagement and mainly stayed in his closet packing up his clothes and crying.

Harry acted the same around Jacques, and Jacques around Harry. He was friendly, casual and especially chipper. None of tense awkwardness Draco dreaded to see. He felt relieved, if only for short time. Draco saw the glacial stare Harry threw everytime Jacques turned his back. Draco didn't miss the empty look in Jacques eyes as his gaze flitted back and forth between him and Harry.

_‘He knows’_ , he had owled Harry as soon as he locked himself in the room as Harry was just leaving, knowing he'd receive the letter in less than five hours.

And so.

Draco sat in the dining table with Jacques, a cup of tea in his hand, a heaviness in his heart, dread in the pit of his stomach.

Jacques smiled and Draco felt sick.

No, really. His vision begun to spin and double. He blinked as the realization dawned on him. After setting his cup down, he stood up, bracing himself on the table trying hard not to fall over.

“I'm not feeling well. Excuse me.”

Then he ran out of the kitchen, stumbled his way up the stairs and into the bedroom where he locked himself in the closet. He knew Jacques was going to follow soon and catch him in his weakest and worst moment. Clutching the bag he packed close to him, he searched for his wand. His breathing was harsh in his ears, vision dimming around the edges. Though it wasn't the potion slipped in his tea but realization that Jacques took his wand. 

He knew. Jacques knew and Jacques was mad — but Draco didn't care anymore.

_One incantation, with or without a wand._ Draco inhaled sharply once he remembered and then closed his eyes.

He whispered the spell like a prayer.

_“Draco?”_

And God answered, Draco thought as he peered up at a pair of concerned, safe and warm green eyes, arms secured around him. He smiled before drifting off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> the title and the quote at the beginning is from the song ivy by taylor swift :)


End file.
